Royal Encounters
by xNimCee
Summary: Prince Edward's POV of Royal Rebellions. This is a series of outtakes only, NOT a full story.
1. Outtake 1: The First Night

**This is NOT Royal Rebellions in EPOV, this is a series of outtakes in EPOV. If you're not reading Royal Rebellions, this won't make sense.**

**This is pretty much going to cover all of Prince Edward's crazy first encounters with Bella, as well as a few more major events later on in the story.**

Disclaimer: SM owns all.

Thanks to _Pinkaquaclouds_ for being the most awesome beta I know. :)

* * *

Outtake One:

**The First Night**

* * *

"Your Highness? We're here, sir."

I am snapped out of my mindless reverie by my driver, who holds the door of the car open. I have not noticed that we've arrived at the manor. The drive back from the airport was long and tedious.

The valets are pulling luggage out of the trunk of the car just as Emmett's vehicle pulls up behind it. I thank my driver, silently dismissing him, as Emmett approaches me.

"Good to have you back, man," he says as we walk back to the manor. "How was London?"

"It hasn't changed," I reply curtly.

"I'm not on guard tonight," he informs me. He's not in Secret Service mode anymore, like he was at the airport. Thankfully we had escaped unseen; the paparazzi can be insane. "What do you say to a round of pool?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm too tired. Jetlag. My body is telling me it's three in the morning."

Emmett shrugs. "It's cool. Maybe some other time. You look like shit."

"Thanks."

Once we enter the manor, we're bombarded with workers asking me if I need anything. I shake my head and they instantly disappear. I'm exhausted and I hate being pampered.

"You good for the night?" Emmett asks me when we reach the third floor. It's bustling with activity; workers are entering and leaving my bedroom, currently in the process of putting my belongings away.

"Yeah, I'm good. See you tomorrow."

Emmett slaps me on the back before heading towards his room, which is just three doors away from mine.

When I enter my bedroom, I see about four workers pulling stuff out of my suitcases and placing them in the drawers and my closet. My mind and body are absolutely worn out, and I want nothing more than to rest. It's impossible for me to sleep anywhere other than a bed, so my head is pounding with sleep deprivation from the flight and car ride.

"Leave that for tomorrow," I address the room at large. "I'm tired."

I hear a chorus of yes sir's and then they leave.

Once the door is shut, I let out a huge sigh and head straight for the bathroom, stripping down as I go. I litter the floor with my pants and shirt, leaving a trail behind me.

I prefer my room to be messy. It feels normal.

I skip a shower and just brush my teeth, staring at my gaunt expression in the mirror above the sink.

My face lacks life.

Once I am clad in nothing but my boxers, I make my way to the bed. It looks so welcoming.

Right before I climb in, I hear a deep cough from outside my door.

Sighing, I turn and head towards it.

I peek my head out and see Phillip, one of the SS. For some reason, my father make an SS guard stand outside my bedroom every night. It's overprotection in the extreme, and it irritates me.

"Go to bed, Phillip," I tell him.

His expression is stoic. "But the king-"

"The king fails to understand that this isn't necessary," I cut him off, irritated with sleep deprivation and exhaustion. "Go to bed."

He hesitates and I raise a brow at him.

"I've slept all day, sir, knowing that I'd be here tonight," he tells me quickly.

I shake my head. "I don't want you standing here all night. Find something else to do, just don't be outside my door for the next ten hours."

His shoulders slump, and he nods, resigned. "Yes sir."

"Thanks."

"Lock your door, sir."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes before shutting the door.

This manor probably has to be the least dangerous place in the country.

I don't even remember if I really do lock my door.

I don't care. I need sleep.

* * *

An earsplitting scream.

It rips through my slumber and wrenches me out of my dreamless sleep, making my body go rigid and my heart stop. For a split second I think it's part of some nightmare, but I'm proven wrong when there is movement on my right and then a thump on the ground, a thump that takes half of my comforter with it.

There is the sound of more movement and my heart is beating a frantic rhythm, wrought with shock and confusion.

I sit up abruptly, and in the dark I make out a figure crawling towards the door. It unsettles me, and for a second I hope that Phillip didn't listen to me.

_What in the name of…_

"Stop," I say, and the figure freezes.

I blink the sleep out of my eyes and reach over to turn the bedside lamp on just as the figure stands.

A girl.

Wide, chocolate brown eyes wander the room in fear and puzzlement. Her hair is a chaotic mess that rivals my own, and her pale features are tinted with a soft shade of pink.

She's lovely.

Her bewildered expression rapidly changes from bewildered to horrified.

She stares at me, and I can do nothing but stare back.

Her mouth opens and closes, as though she's trying to form words, and when she manages to speak she says the last thing I would ever expect her to say.

"I just wanted to pee!"

She turns and runs out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

She leaves the silence of the room in her wake, while I am left to sit and attempt to assess what has just happened.

My thoughts are an incoherent jumble at first, and I can't quite make sense of anything.

Who was she?

I don't recall ever seeing her before, so she must be new. A maid, perhaps?

How did she end up in my bedroom, and in my bed?

Why did she scream?

… Why did she tell me that she needed to pee?

All these questions and more circle around in my head, but overpowering the questions is the image of her face.

Her delicate, innocent face with the most expressive eyes.

Then, I laugh.

The sound is foreign to me.

I still can't fully wrap my head around the situation, so I chalk it off to being something hilarious and random before turning the lamp off.

I fall back onto my pillows and rub my hands over my face.

I glance at the clock.

4:08am.

It's early, and I'm still exhausted. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try to get my body to relax so that sleep can overcome me again.

I use meditative methods that I've learned from somewhere, though at the moment I can't recall my source.

When the breathing in and out doesn't work, I roll over onto my stomach, aggravated.

I grab the pillow next to my and bury my face in it.

Strawberries.

The scent of it lingers in the pillow I now hold against my face. It makes me uncomfortable.

Irritated once again, I push the pillow away and lie on my back, staring at the ceiling.

There's a hint of strawberries in the air as well.

It's not unappealing, but it rubs me the wrong way for a reason I can't explain.

I may need to have the room cleaned tomorrow, to get it to smell like something other than strange girls.

I close my eyes and focus on nothing but the exhaustion still present in my body.

It takes a while but I slowly start to succumb.

Waves of chocolate and skin of ivory dance behind my eyelids before the darkness overpowers them.

* * *

**A/N:** There you have it, folks. :)

The next outtake should be posted soon enough, most likely a little after the next update of RR.

Let me know what you think!


	2. Outtake 2: The Soup

This outtake is a little longer than the last. It offers a bit of a look into the daily going-ons of Princeward's life.

Enjoy!

* * *

Outtake Two:

**The Soup**

* * *

The morning brings with it unwelcome rays of sunshine. I forgot to draw my curtains the night before so I am blinded even before I open my eyes.

Groaning, I roll over onto my stomach and bury my face in the pillows. My body relaxes with the new position and I'm finding it very difficult to get up.

The scent of strawberries is still there and it's still irritating, but I don't feel like recoiling away from it this time.

I meant what I said about getting my room cleaned, or my bed sheets and pillows changed at the very least.

I take my time getting out of bed, seeing as I have nowhere to be this morning. Being free is something that I'd be wise not to get used to. It's not going to last very long.

Glancing at the clock, I see that it's half past nine. When I have nowhere to go, I like breakfast delivered at ten. I wouldn't get up any later than that.

My shower is quick and by the time I'm dressed, I hear a faint knock. It comes from the main part of the suite, not my bedroom, and once I enter the living area I see that Alice has let herself in. She is pushing a cart of food.

"Morning Mr. Edward sir," she sings.

I can't help but smile in return. Not all the workers are as enthusiastic and friendly as her.

"Good morning, Alice," I respond.

"We have your favorites today, seeing as you just got back," she announces. She starts lifting off the covers from the plates. "Pesto scrambled eggs with sautéed tomatoes, Italian seasoning and parmesan cheese; sweet potato pancakes with pecan honey butter and banana oatmeal buttermilk waffles….OJ, milk or your mocha coffee on the side. Take your pick."

My stomach grumbles as the scent of the food reaches me and I realize that I am ravenous. "Just leave it all here."

Alice nods. "Anything else you need?"

"I know my room isn't scheduled to be cleaned just yet, but I want someone to change the sheets and pillows on my bed."

"I'll see to it," Alice says, turning and walking towards the door.

"Thank you, Alice," I say. The manners that have been forever engrained in me make themselves known.

"You're welcome. Have a nice day." She shuts the doors behind her and I am left to stare at the cart of food.

Knowing that I'll have to work off the calories later, I flip the flat screen on, sink down on the couch, and dig in.

There was once a time when our entire family had every meal together.

Then, things changed.

We grew up, Jasper, Rosalie and I. We went off to school and then Carlisle and Esme grew busier over the years. They developed new acquaintances, and as their social life grew more demanding, their time with their family dwindled.

The television screen keeps me company as I eat my breakfast. I can't stand the loneliness; I need company before I lose my mind.

I pick up my phone to text Emmett, but it rings when it's in my hand.

It's Carlisle.

"Dad," I answer.

"I hear you're back from London, son," he says, cutting right to the chase. Carlisle has always been like that.

"Got back last night," I tell him.

"How was the flight?"

"Long."

"The drive back?"

"Longer."

"The Kensingtons are coming over for dinner."

My brows shoot up and I suppress a groan. "Yeah?"

"Yes. You'll be there at 5pm sharp, I assume?"

_As if I have a choice… _"Yes."

"See you tonight, son."

He hangs up on me and I sigh. Our relationship has always been a little formal, even when I was a child. I'm closer to Esme, although I spend much more time with Carlisle. It's mainly because I'm next in line for the throne that I don't want.

The rest of the morning and afternoon goes by uneventfully. Halfway through breakfast, a maid comes in to do something about my bed. Another maid comes in to get rid of my breakfast things.

I have made plans with my personal trainer, Garrett, to meet up at the gym he owns. Normally he'd come here to the manor, since we have a gym of our own, but I've called him last minute. I feel like I need to release some stress.

For one thing, I have no desire to have dinner with the Kensingtons. Their teenage daughters fill my ears with inane banter and Mrs. Kensington can't keep her hands to herself.

For another thing, I can't stop thinking about the Girl That Had To Pee.

My thoughts drift to her several times, and I can't stop wondering who she is.

Will I ever see her again? What's her name? Where did she come from?

All these questions and more are irritatingly on the forefront of my mind as I head to the garage.

By habit, I head straight to my Volvo. I pause behind it, annoyed that the massive dent in the back is still there.

Huffing, I turn towards one of the SS that guards our family's garage.

"Why hasn't something been done about the dent?" I demand. I can't quite keep the frustration out of my voice.

"I, uh, I don't know, sir," he answers.

"I want it fixed ASAP," I say, already turning to head towards my Audi.

I'm still highly irritated at the idiot that hit it. I chose to let it go, because of the scandal that the gossip magazines would surely conjure up, but that doesn't mean that it didn't annoy the hell out of me. Whoever the person was probably didn't even have the balls to stick around and take responsibility.

Coward.

* * *

My workout with Garrett does what it is supposed to, as per usual, and by the time I get back to the manor I have to get ready for the dinner with the Kensingtons.

I have someone who shops for me, so it's not hard finding the typical garments for a social dinner. I shower again, attempt to tame my hair, spray on some cologne, and then by 5pm I am plastering on an artificial smile as I say hello to the Kensingtons.

We sit in the parlor and make idle chat for an hour, as is the custom. Thankfully, Jasper is good at keeping the teenage girls at bay. Rosalie doesn't hide her disinterest, although she attempts to join in Esme and Mrs. Kensington's conversation out of courtesy, and I find myself discussing politics with my father and Mr. Kensington.

When dinner is served, we all make our way to the dining room. There are place cards on the table, but Mrs. Kensington disregards them and sits wherever she pleases, which happens to be where I usually sit. I end up sitting on Carlisle's left and Mr. Kensington's right.

Just when the doors open and the workers start walking in with the food, Mr. Kensington turns to me.

"What are your plans now that you've graduated, Edward?" he asks. "Are you going to further your education, or do you think you can be at your father's side from now on? Perhaps partake in the family business?"

"I think I'm taking a break as of now," I respond. "I'll always be at my father's side, but when it comes to education or officially taking part in the business, I don't know which would be wiser."

"Well, it might certainly be education," he argues. "The only way-"

He is briefly cut off when a worker places my dish in front of me, lifting the lid.

"Thank you," I say, briefly glancing up at her.

The scent of strawberries hits me at the same time that I recognize her face.

_It's her._

She looks different tonight. She looks neater, though the expression of surprise is almost equivalent to the one from last night.

The Girl Who Had To Pee stares at me with wide eyes.

She stares at me for a while, completely frozen, and her cheeks grow red.

Is she okay?

She must still be embarrassed from last night.

I raise my eyebrow, hoping that it will get her to move, just as Carlisle clears his throat. She jumps and glances up while her cheeks are still pink with embarrassment.

It has to be the sweetest, most innocent thing I've seen in a young woman.

The girl steps back and she's out of my sight. I am unable to think of her for much longer, because I am once again pulled into a conversation that I am not interested in.

Once the course is over, the worker comes back. As she lifts my empty dish from in front of me, she almost elbows me in the face. Luckily, I dodge out of the way just in time. The girl squeaks out an apology before scurrying back into the kitchen.

"She must be new," Esme says sympathetically.

That's all that is said about the girl, and when the workers walk back in, my eyes are drawn to her right away. Her gaze doesn't hold mine for more than two seconds at a time, and she looks flustered. It really is a sight to behold.

She's so distracting.

Everything that happens next happens painfully fast.

I think the girl trips on something, because the next thing I know my crotch is wet and it is on fire.

"FUCK!" the girl yells out as I hiss, and the pain of the burn is so excruciating that I am incapable of making any sound other than an agonized groan. My teeth are barred against the pain and my entire body has gone stiff as the pain makes it hard to think.

My dick is burning, and with it my temper, as I am being handed napkins from every side of me.

A pale hand clutching a napkin reaches down towards my crotch, and I instinctively grab it.

"It's all right, I've got it," I say through clenched teeth. I know I shouldn't be angry because it was an accident, but when your cock feels like it's been lit on fire, you can't exactly think straight.

She keeps apologizing as I get to my feet to clean myself up, and all I can do is tell her that it's okay.

She doesn't shut up.

"I'm sorry about the Volvo too!" she cries. "It's just, it was parked in the most ridiculous space, and I was there first and it was hard to get out and I pressed on the gas too hard and next thing I know there's a dent and I freak out and oh my god, what am I saying?"

Silence.

I blink at her, the pain of my crotch no longer the main thing on my mind as her words sink in.

My Volvo…

_She_ hit my Volvo?

"That was you?" I ask in disbelief. This does not seem real.

All she can do is apologize again before Alice drags her away.

I don't stay in the dining room for much longer. I excuse myself and head straight for my bedroom, waving away any workers that want to help.

Once upstairs, I strip and step into the shower for the third time today. Cool water feels good on my cock and thighs, and the burn lessens remarkably. There's no permanent damage, and that's a good thing.

When I am out of the shower, there is only one girl on my mind.

Bella.

That's what Alice called her.

It's a pretty name, but Christ, the girl is a bumbling mess.

I feel embarrassed for her, but I can't help but feel intrigued.

Not just intrigued, but fascinated.

I want to know more.

How often will I run into her? Will it be another disaster, like tonight and the night before?

How does she look when the expression on her face isn't embarrassed?

This girl- Bella- has peaked my interest.

And once something peaks my interest, there's no turning back.

* * *

**A/N:** The next outtake won't be up for a while, mainly because it would... um... _reveal _something that hasn't been revealed yet in Royal Rebellions. Yes, I'm talking about what the heck Edward was hiding in that drawer of his.

See you on Sunday. :)


	3. Outtake 3: The Drawer

Outtake Three:

**The Drawer**

One week.

That's how long it's been since I had the misfortune of having hot soup poured on my privates by that worker, Bella.

I don't think about her often, since I'm able to keep my mind occupied by other things. Still, she remains a lingering thought at the back of my head, always there but never quite at the forefront of my mind.

Forgetting her is impossible.

In order to do something other than lying around, I decide to head to the library. It's been a while since I've aimlessly roamed the shelves.

On my way there, I run into Emmett.

"Where you headed?" he asks.

"Library," I reply. "Wanna come?"

He snorts and rolls his eyes. That's the only answer I need.

"I'll be with your father if you need me," he calls as we walk in opposite directions. "You know, in case someone attacks you in the library."

I chuckle, completely understanding his sarcasm. The Secret Service guards often joke about how nothing dangerous ever happens at the manor. They basically get paid for standing around, but they're not complaining.

I enter the library just as a few workers are leaving with cleaning supplies. They smile and nod politely, and I return the gesture.

I don't know where to start.

The library has always been my favorite room in the manor. I remember spending hours upon hours in here, often times falling asleep and having someone carry me to bed.

The familiar rustic, old smell of the room greets me.

I start on my right, running my fingers over the spines of the books. When I was a teenager, I used to do this and then stop at random, pulling out whatever book my fingers happened to be resting on.

I begin that same routine now, letting my fingertips drop against the spines. They make dull tapping sounds, echoing in the silent space around me.

I wander aimlessly, just letting my feet walk me where they want and letting my fingers touch the books until they decide to stop.

At one point, I'm vaguely aware that I've ended up on the opposite side of the library.

Suddenly, I realize that I'm not alone.

There's a voice.

Soft. Female. Sultry.

It's almost familiar, though not quite.

She speaks in hushed tones, her whispers filling up this part of the room.

Is she a worker? She must be; I don't recognize the voice as belonging to my family.

I am also surprised to find that there's anyone in the library at all. Usually it's empty. The workers are technically allowed to share, but they generally don't.

My feet pull me toward the voice, almost magnetically. A part of me wonders if I've gone mad and am just hearing things.

"Tell her to chill out, I'm alive," the voice says, tone laced with slight irritation. "Yup. See you in a bit."

There's complete silence after that and I halt my steps, wondering if I should keep going. I don't want to disturb whoever she is.

I decide to be discreet, planning on casually peeking at the owner of the voice. I don't want to bother her, but for some reason I want to know how she looks.

It's suddenly gone silent, so I momentarily think that she left.

That is, until she crashes into me quite hard.

I stumble back a couple steps but regain my balance, my arms instinctively reaching out to grasp her waist before she can tumble to the floor. My hands curl around a soft, slim waist as two small hands tightly grasp my biceps for stability.

I'm greeted by the wide, brown eyes that have haunted the crevices of my mind for the past seven days. Her gaze is stunned, if not just a little bit frightened.

I let go of her, but perhaps too quickly, since she stumbles back.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

"Yes sir," she squeaks like a mouse, and I'm taken aback by that.

Not wanting to be impolite, I look down at the items she's dropped to hide my twitching lips. I don't want to laugh at her, but when she talks like that…

I notice the thick book on the ground and bend down to pick it up, seeing that it's one of Austen's works. A collection of her works, rather.

"Were you going to bother this?" I ask, genuinely curious. She'd be the first worker in a very long time to borrow something from here.

"Huh?" She seems distracted, but I'm pretty sure she's heard my question.

She stares at me, blinking slowly, and it annoys me but I push it aside. I don't think a worker has ever looked me in the eye for so long.

"You can borrow it, if you like…" I trail off, watching her for a reaction other than the blank stare. She blinks and shakes her head, as though coming to her senses.

"Oh, um, no," she mumbles. "I wasn't going to borrow it… sir. I was just, um…"

She's lying.

Is she intimidated?

That would make sense, but I feel a pang of… something. Is it guilt? Sadness? I don't want her to be intimidated by me.

To scare her less, I try small talk. I make some comment about Jane Austen's works, and then hold the book out for her to take. I don't know why, but I'm eager for her to have it.

"Take it," I say, and it unintentionally comes out like an order.

Habit.

She takes the book from me, and her small thumb grazes mine. For a moment, it's like there's a current of electricity running underneath my skin. It's so brief that for a moment I think I've imagined it,

She thanks me quietly and there's just something about her voice that gives off the air of innocence.

Her eyes betray her.

I don't know what she's thinking, but there's a spark that's anything but innocent.

I nod at her and then pick up the dusting supplies she dropped. It then occurs to me that I'm probably distracting her from her work.

"I'm probably keeping you from your work," I say apologetically. "I apologize…?"

I trail off and pretend not to know her name. It might creep her out if I said it without her telling me what it is.

"B-Bella," she says quietly.

I nod and then we're interrupted by Emmett.

"Your Highness?"

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Emmett never calls me that unless I'm around workers.

"Your father wants you," he says, and I nod at him.

I give Bella one last glance, wanting to say something else but unsure of what, before following Emmett out.

* * *

Carlisle wanted me for something rather important.

I stare down at the papers in my hands, trying to absorb the truth that's staring me in the face.

It's hard for it to sink in, it really is.

Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for every single day of my life. Having evidence that they're actually not is something so surreal. Even though they told me this when I was eighteen, it is only recently that Carlisle's been able to dig up the records themselves.

Now, with the proof in my hands, it's a strong dose of reality.

I wonder what my life would be like if Elizabeth had lived. Obviously, I wouldn't have the pressure of a royal life, the impending stress of a throne that I'm still unsure what I would do with.

It makes me wonder…

Would I have been normal?

Maybe not entirely normal, since I would have still lived in the manor, but normalcy would have been closer to me. I could have gone to school, made friends, moved out eventually.

It could have been mine.

I finally pull my eyes away from the name Elizabeth Leigh Masen and walk over to my desk.

"Hey, Edward!" I startle slightly and turn to see Emmett standing in my doorway. He doesn't know about this, and he can't.

No one can.

"What?" I mutter distractingly, throwing the papers into the open bottom drawer. It has a lock on it.

"Your mom wants you to come back. Where's your phone? She's been calling."

I look around for my phone and find it on the floor near the bed. Sure enough, there are two missed calls from my mother. She gets worried easily, and obviously called Emmett to ask where I was.

Sighing, I follow Emmett out for the second time that day.

* * *

My mother wanted to talk to me about Tanya.

Tanya.

What can I possibly say about her?

There was once a time when the two of us were really good friends. She's always been headstrong about what she wants, and it doesn't hurt that she's attractive. It doesn't hurt that my parents are close friends with her parents. It's always been implied that we'd become a "thing".

My parents have been pressuring me to marry her for a while now. It's gotten to the point where I'm thinking about appeasing them just to get them to stop badgering me.

Marrying Tanya doesn't seem like that bad of an idea. Tanya can be a bit… tenacious, but it's nothing I can't handle. I've seen her at her worst, and she's probably the only girl that I've ever met that I've liked as more than just a friend…

A brief flash of brown hair and eyes flashes through my mind, but it's so quick that it doesn't even worry me.

When I enter my bedroom, the sight I see freezes me in my tracks and causes panic to seize my chest.

Bella is leaning down and looking into the bottom drawer of my desk, her head tilted to the side.

The drawer with my birth certificate.

_Fuck._

Fury grips me, stiffening my muscles.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She jumps and squeals at the sound of my voice, whirling around to stare at me with wide eyes. She looks completely innocent, but that only angers me further. What she was doing was far from innocent.

"Explain yourself," I order, and I clench my fists, trying to rein my anger in.

She stutters some nonsense about not knowing if she was allowed to clean the desk, but everything she says just flies over my head.

The fact of the matter is that, as endearing as this girl is, I don't know her. Therefore, I can't trust her. She could be a gossip, she could tell everyone I'm not biologically related to Esme and Carlisle, and then I'd be royally screwed.

My resolve is strengthened as she tells me she didn't mean to look, but I can't tell if she's lying.

I'm not taking any chances though.

So, I threaten her.

I threaten to fire her if I catch her touching my personal things.

With that, I kick her out.

She scrams like a rat with its tail on fire, and I take a few breaths to calm myself down.

I walk over to the desk and shut the drawer, making sure to lock it with the padlock.

Suddenly, there's remorse.

I overreacted.

I let my temper get the best of me and scared her off. The thought of frightening her really, really irks me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I threatened for her to lose her job.

I'm a fool.

Surely, she wasn't really snooping. She was just confused about how to do her job.

I sink down on my bed and rub my face with both hands.

I know that had it been any other worker, I wouldn't feel guilty for snapping on them. I've snapped on a few before, nothing big, but it's happened. I've always been justified, except for now.

It's her.

It's Bella.

Something about her just…

It catches me off guard. It makes me lose any sense of order, any sense of being calm and collected. I always feel well put together, but when I'm around her it's like she's slowly unraveling me from my tightly bound persona.

Maybe it's because she's so unpredictable.

I'm not used to the unpredictable.

I don't even know this girl, and yet she crawls under my skin.

I need to try and forget her.

She's just a worker.

With that thought comes a little more remorse.

A worker.

_Shit._

With the direction my thoughts are taking, I know that I'm screwed if I let this go any further.

I need to propose to Tanya.

Soon.

* * *

**A/N**: Eeek. I know I haven't updated this in like 5 months. That is such an absolute fail. I'm not going to make excuses, but I can promise that more of these are on their way. Especially since I'm finishing up Royal Rebellions and still have a few weeks before the semester starts.

Thanks for reading and sticking with me! See you soon. :)


	4. Outtake 4: The Normal Conversation

Outtake Four:

**The "Normal" Conversation**

I am an engaged man.

It feels odd being labeled as such. I always knew this day would come, I knew it would be Tanya, but I don't exactly feel… happy.

It really makes me wonder- have I _ever_ been happy?

I think the most I've ever felt in life was satisfaction. Satisfaction with who I am, where I've been, what I've learned…

Yet, I don't think I'm too familiar with what happiness feels like.

Tanya was overly enthusiastic when I proposed. There was a lot of jumping up and down and squealing in the middle of our favorite French restaurant. I had known this moment would come one day, and yet I felt unprepared for it.

My parents are over the moon about it. They'd been nagging me to do this for a while, and to have them off my back at last feels good.

Good, but not great.

Three days after having proposed to Tanya, I am lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Sleep evades me, though my thoughts are fast paced and vivid. My mind replays the past few days, all the media attention, the congratulatory comments, the questions about the wedding…

Through all of it, I don't remember even one moment of joy.

My phone interrupts the film reel in my head as it buzzes against my nightstand.

_Hey babyyy. You still awake? – T_

I sigh as I read the message, not really in the mood to talk to her. To say that Tanya is clingy would be an understatement.

Glancing at the clock, I see that it's around two in the morning. If I ignore the text, she'll think I'm asleep.

I set my phone back on the nightstand and ignore it the next few times that it buzzes. Tanya is undoubtedly trying to wake me up.

_Miss you. –T_

_Thinking of youuu… –T_

_When are we going to go get a different ring? –T_

I put the phone on silent after that, but it constantly lights up the room every time she sends another message.

Aggravated, I sit up in bed and a run a hand through my hair.

The frustration I have with everything and everyone is almost overwhelming. I'm frustrated with Tanya, my parents, myself...

But most of all, I'm frustrated with the girl the thoughts of whom have yet to leave the little nooks and crannies of my brain.

I need to get away from these four walls.

Climbing out of bed, I throw on a t-shirt and leave my room. I need to get away from that phone; I need to calm my thoughts.

I've always been a wanderer when my thoughts become too much to handle. That much hasn't changed. I find it easy to let my feet do all the thinking, to lead me where they want.

Tonight, I find myself drawn to the second floor.

The second floor, where the library is.

My memory of the last time I was there comes back in full force.

Flashes of brown, ivory, and pink…

Soft voice, stuttered words, dropped items.

I've turned a corner on the second floor when I halt, surprised by the sight in front of me.

For the briefest moment, I think I'm seeing a large animal crawling in the opposite direction. My eyes adjust to the darkness of the hallway, and then I realize that it's actually a human on all fours.

"What the hell?" I mumble to myself.

The person has long dark hair that sweeps against the floor as she crawls, and I'm momentarily reminded of that girl from _The Ring_. The very thought makes a shiver run through me.

This is clearly suspicious behavior, so I step forward to get some answers. My hearing picks up the closer I get to the figure, and I suddenly realize that she's mumbling to herself.

"…fucking… sick… Alice… hate… puke…"

The words are slurred, so I entertain the thought that she must be intoxicated.

My eyes land on the staircase at the end of the hall, and I feel a brief second of panic when it occurs to me that she's heading toward it. In her state, she could go tumbling down.

Without thinking, I find myself walking briskly forward and reaching down to grab hold of her slender arm. I gently pull her up, and she sways on her feet so I push her against the wall.

"You almost fell down the stairs," I say, and the more I stare at her, the easier she is to recognize.

_Bella._

She doesn't look like herself. Her eyes are caked with dark makeup and she's wearing a short, black dress that fits her like a glove. Her hair is down in messy waves, and she looks….

She looks sexy.

My cock agrees.

"You," she slurs, her voice bringing my eyes back to her face. "It's you."

I can smell the alcohol on her breath and her eyes are glazed over in the dim light of the hallway. She's very, very drunk and my only thought is that, in her condition, she needs to be somewhere safe.

"You need to go back to your room," I tell her. "Clearly you are in no state of mind to be wandering around."

"Don't you tell me what to do," she spits, jabbing me in the chest with her finger.

"Excuse me?" I am completely taken aback by her hostility, seeing as I've never seen her as anything other than shy and awkward.

"You and your _hair_. You and your lickable… _jaw_. Ugh, you disgust me."

_Lickable jaw?_

_Was that a compliment?_

"Where is your room?" I ask her, fully intending to drag her there. While her drunken ranting is amusing, she shouldn't be wandering the halls.

"I don't give a fuck," she slurs, and I sigh. This isn't going to be easy.

"Is it on this floor? Down the hall, perhaps?" I can only assume that she crawled down here from somewhere on this floor.

She doesn't answer the question.

She just keeps on ranting, slurring every other word and glaring at me with eyes that are highly unfocused.

"You and your fiancé with her fake smiles and fake tan and fake tits… She's so fake she was probably made in China… or Taiwan… or Idaho. Wherever they make products through underpaid and overworked illiterates. Stupid whore."

I stare at her, stunned by her outburst despite her intoxication.

I'm not surprised she knows about the engagement, but is that how she feels about Tanya?

"Okay, this is getting out of hand," I sigh. "Where is Emmett when you need him?" He's better at handling inebriated young women. We come across them all the time.

Much to my surprise, Bella's fallen silent. She stares at something on my shirt before she mutters an "oh shit", and then falls forward.

I quickly grab a hold of her before she vomits all over the floor, missing my feet by mere centimeters. I dodge out of the way in time, and she slumps against me.

"Christ," I mutter, at a loss for what to do.

Bella slumps against me at the same time a new voice is calling down the hall, "Bella?"

Another figure wanders out of a room at the end of the hall, and I immediately recognize it as Alice Brandon.

Meanwhile, Bella is muttering, "fuck my life" repeatedly.

Yes.

Fuck her life, indeed.

After another second, her eyes are closed and I try waking her up, but she's out cold.

I lift her up into my arms, surprised at how light she is. I'm not even thinking about the fact that I'm cradling this girl to my chest. All I can think is that she needs a bed. Now.

I carefully step over the puddle of vomit and make my way over to where Alice is leaning against the wall. Bright light filters out from the doorway next to her.

"Is this your room, Alice?" I ask, and she stares at me like she's trying to figure out if she's really seeing me.

"Mmmhmm, yeah…" she trails off dreamily, eyes glazed over, and I shake my head when I realize that she's drunk, too.

I walk past her and into the bedroom, a small room with two twin size beds on one side.

I carefully lay Bella down on the one closest to me, aware that Alice has entered behind me.

Alice stumbles to the opposite bed, evidently singing to herself.

"Cinderella," she sings, flopping down onto her stomach. "Bippity boppity boo."

I stare at her confusedly and watch as her eyes close. A second later, I know that she's also beyond consciousness.

I glance between Alice and Bella, at their somewhat skimpy attire. They have obviously been out partying. I find that fascinating, seeing as workers don't generally leave the manor for leisurely activities. Not that I know of, anyway.

I stare at Bella a bit longer and my eyes are immediately drawn to her body. She's slender but curvy in all the right place, and once again my cock takes notice.

_Pervert._

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, immediately leaving the room.

Once I've found someone to take care of the vomit on the second floor, I head back to my own bedroom.

My mission was to search for a distraction, and a distraction was exactly what I found.

It was the wrong distraction, however.

I didn't realize what I really needed a distraction from until I ran into the very thing that'd been haunting me.

* * *

I sleep restlessly that night.

I toss and turn, all but begging sleep to come. When I finally do doze off, it's only for a brief amount of time. Then, the sunlight is seeping through the windows and it's impossible for me to stay in bed.

The only thing I'm glad about is that I've got nowhere to be today. I can just spend the day by myself, attempting to get a peace of mind.

Somehow, before I've done anything else, I've sat down at the piano in my living room.

I haven't played in a while, haven't really felt the urge to. Now, my fingers ghost over the keys and I try to play the first thing that comes to mind.

It ends up being a somber melody, one of my own creations. I don't even remember when I wrote it, or why. All I know is that it best expresses the myriad of irritating feelings inside of me.

So, that's what I do. I pour my unnamable emotions onto the piano, letting my fingers speak for me.

Time passes as the music flows around me, lulling my mind into a serene place. It's not hard to get lost in the music, to forget almost everything else and focus on the dips and sways of the tune.

I don't know how long I sit there, playing, but it's not long before my fingers are aching a little. I crack my knuckles a few times and stand up, stretching. It's still too early for breakfast to be delivered.

I make my way back to my bedroom with the intention to shower the somberness off of me. It angers me that I've been so down lately. Things in my life are fairly good; I shouldn't be sulking like a pouty little boy.

I stop in the doorway that leads into my bedroom, my heart skipping a beat when a familiar head of brown hair is standing by the bed.

Bella is oblivious to my presence as she puts laundry away. I'm rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off of her.

I watch as she picks up a pair of my jeans and giggles.

She _giggles._

I blink, taken aback by the sound.

It's…. pretty?

It's like the tinkling of water when you leave the faucet open just a little bit. Or like the sound of wind chimes. Perhaps it could be likened to the clink of ice against glass.

She frowns at my jeans for a moment longer, and I decide that I should probably alert her to my presence. I don't want to just stand here and watch her like a stalker.

I clear my throat and Bella jumps, dropping the jeans into the basket on the bed. She whirls around to look at me, her eyes widening in surprise. Her gaze runs over me for a moment, and her lips part just slightly.

My eyes are immediately drawn to them, but not for long enough before she speaks and snaps me out of it.

"I'm, I'm, uh… just putting laundry away," she mumbles.

I merely nod in response, a pang of guilt going through me. She's probably saying that to inform me that she's strictly doing what she's supposed to not and not touching things she shouldn't be.

I feel irritated at myself as I recall my overreaction when she almost found my birth certificate.

Bella hasn't pulled her gaze away from me yet. She continues to stare, a slight crease in between her brows, lips still parted.

_What is she thinking?_

I'm suddenly dying to know.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"You're in sweatpants," she replies, blinking rapidly.

My brows furrow. _Why does that surprise her?_

"Yes… Is that a shock?"

Her cheeks become tinged with pink. "Kinda."

_Interesting. _

"Why?"

"I, uh… wasn't expecting that," she says quietly, averting her gaze.

I'm momentarily confused. She wasn't expecting to see me in sweats? It starts to make sense after a second. To her, I'm not any other guy. I'm royalty. The way she says it makes me believe that she thinks sweats are uncommon among my family.

"What were you expecting?" I ask curiously. "Diamond encrusted silk?" I try not to sound a little bitter.

Bella blushes and folds my jeans, moving to put them in a drawer. I tell her to leave them on the bed instead, and she complies.

A part of me knows that I should leave her alone and let her work.

The other part of me wants to stay, to get to know her.

I've always been a somewhat impulsive person. It's because of that fact that I decide to stay and talk to her. Surely, it's the polite thing to do?

She looks fairly young to me, though she comes off as being wiser for her age. Appearance wise, she looks maybe eighteen or nineteen. She could be in her early twenties, though.

Just for clarification, I ask her how old she is. I don't think she's old enough for that to be considered a rude question.

She tells me that she's eighteen, and I'm not surprised. Most of the younger workers are older than her, though. She may just be the youngest.

A girl her age should be in school, so I wonder what she's doing here.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" I ask curiously, and suddenly I want to know her story.

"I guess…"

I feel a spike of frustration at her. She should be somewhere else, yet here she is, drawing my attention, ruining my sleep…

"Why are you here?" I ask, and the frustration is unintentionally evident in my tone.

She gives me a funny look and then proceeds to explain her situation. She tells me about Carlisle and how he visited her dad's restaurant and asked them to work here. She talks about her fear of student loans and how she can't afford college otherwise.

I could listen to her talk forever.

What she tells me is slightly unsettling, though I can't pinpoint why.

By the time she's done telling me about her schooling situation, I'm already formulating a plan to help her and any other worker that may want to further educate themselves.

By the time she's gone, leaving a lingering scent of strawberries in the air, I know that I want her to stay.


End file.
